


You Send It All Back To Me

by submergedmemory



Series: Love Is Like Music [4]
Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/submergedmemory/pseuds/submergedmemory
Summary: Glenn’s father comes for a visit. It does not go well.
Relationships: Glenn Close and Bill Close, Glenn Close/Morgan Freeman (Dungeons and Daddies)
Series: Love Is Like Music [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708477
Comments: 13
Kudos: 38





	You Send It All Back To Me

He appears out of nowhere on a sleepy Saturday afternoon, like a gaunt-faced ghost.

Bill seems perfectly fine, eyes clear and alert, clothes a little rumpled but clean. Glenn knows appearances are deceiving.

“ _Damn,_ Glenny, it’s been too long!” Bill says, throwing his arms around Glenn in an unwelcome embrace. Glenn grunts. He pats his father’s back until he’s let go. “I barely recognize your face, tiger. You’re looking good!” Bill smiles. His teeth are a little more jacked up than the last time they saw each other, Glenn notes cynically.

“Close, who was at the door? I still need you to — oh.”

Glenn turns his head and sees Morgan walking into the living room. She’s holding a script in her hands, but her eyes are trained on the figure standing at the entrance.

_Shit._ “Hey, Freeman,” Glenn says, tries to smile, fails. “This is—”

“Bill Close,” his father says, pushing past Glenn to hold his hand out for a handshake. Morgan tucks her script under her arm and takes Bill’s proffered hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss…”

“Freeman. And likewise, Mr. Close. I’m Glenn’s… roommate. Glenn has told me a lot about you,” Morgan says, raising an eyebrow when Bill holds onto her hand perhaps a touch longer than necessary. She extricates her hand delicately, glances at Glenn with a question in her eyes. Glenn grimaces, but nods.

Morgan turns back to Bill and smiles. Not one of the nice smiles, Glenn notices. “Let me put on a pot of tea.”

\--

Bill isn’t _quite_ the perfect gentleman for the few hours he’s there — he talks over Glenn constantly (Morgan frowns, annoyed), leers at Morgan when he thinks she isn’t looking (Glenn reddens, mortified), regales both of them of tales of his — and Glenn’s — misspent youth without consideration — but compared to how Glenn _remembers_ him being, he may as well be the fucking king of England or some shit like that.

Not that Bill seems to notice or care, and Glenn can see him getting restless. Never a good sign. “Well, folks, it’s been real, but I need to head out for a little bit. A few prior engagements I can’t miss. Mind if I come back later?”

_“Is that what we’re calling getting shitfaced and tweaked out of your mind now?”_ Glenn thinks bitterly. “I don’t know, man, we’re still getting settled into this new place, and we both keep some weird-ass hours…”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem at all, tiger,” Bill says, laughing. He punches Glenn’s arm playfully (Glenn still winces, and Morgan’s eyebrow furrows), shoots a flirtatious wink at Morgan (Morgan smiles with teeth, and Glenn wants to sink into the ground), and leaves.

“...I need a shower,” Glenn says, when the silence stretches on too long. He brushes past Morgan, tries to ignore her concerned gaze following him.

\--

Normally, Glenn would spend his time in the shower a little more careful with his hair — anything less than the most extravagant of hair care routines and products and he has to live with a poodle on his head until the next time he washes it — but as he runs a wide-toothed comb through his wet hair, much rougher than he normally would, his thoughts continue to circle back, over and over, to the mortifying gauntlet he’s just had to endure, and Glenn finds that hair care is the last thing on his mind.

“You’re going to rip your damn hair out if you keep doing that.”

The shower curtain parts, and Morgan steps into the hot stream of water so that she’s standing behind Glenn. She runs her hands over his shoulders, and Glenn feels the tension he didn’t realize he was carrying with him fall away. “Maybe I want to. You _know_ I can rock the bald look.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything, just hums thoughtfully as she reaches for the tap to stem the flow of water. She takes Glenn’s bottle of conditioner and squeezes a generous amount into her hands and proceeds to run her fingers through Glenn’s hair, slowly coaxing out the tangles in his curls, taking her time with it, gently, carefully, until Glenn is practically purring and boneless in her arms.

“So today was pretty interesting,” Morgan says, eventually. She turns the shower handle again, and Glenn jumps and makes a very undignified noise at the sudden change in temperature, but Morgan is laughing, so Glenn can’t feel _too_ betrayed.

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Glenn says, finally turning to face Morgan, and he can’t help but take a moment to just… _stare._

Morgan’s hair is almost evenly split between salt and pepper now, and she hasn’t gotten a haircut in months, the big move to San Dimas and then the auditions having taken up most of her free time, so she’s taken to tying it back into a tight chignon. But she’s let it loose now, standing there in the shower with a steady fall of lukewarm water raining down their heads, a beautiful cascade that tumbles down to the small of her back. Glenn wants to run his hands through it, ease out the snarls and the knots and braid it into a crown that circles her elegant, beautiful face.

“Very interesting,” Morgan repeats, as she leans over to turn off the tap completely. She brushes away the stray strands of hair still sticking to Glenn’s face, stares deep into his eyes, a weird hazel-y color that Glenn hates looking at for too long.

“I don’t see the resemblance,” she says, before stepping out of the shower and handing him one of her old t-shirts to dry his hair with.

It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to Glenn.

\--

Bill doesn’t come back until the small hours of the morning, but when he does he’s ranting and raving and reeking of bad whiskey and cheap spirits and god knows what else. Glenn is ashamed and angry almost beyond belief, but he still drags Bill into the guest room and sits there until exhaustion and sleep claim the stranger in the bed.

Glenn makes his way back to his and Morgan’s shared bedroom, where Morgan is waiting for him, tired but awake. She holds her arms open and Glenn falls into her embrace, clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, not just for waking her up. Morgan just shakes her head. “Nothing to be sorry for,” she says, running her hand over his back soothingly.

"I hate him, I hate him so fucking much," Glenn says, hating the way his voice sounds. If he says it enough times, maybe he’ll believe it.

“I know, Glenn. I know. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Morgan says. If she says it enough times, maybe Glenn’s words will be true.

Eventually, Morgan sighs. She lifts a hand to Glenn’s face, runs a thumb over the scar on his right eyebrow. "You can just tell him to leave. Or I can do it."

Glenn stiffens, his arms tightening around Morgan. "No."

Morgan lets go, just enough so she can look Glenn in the eye. "Why not," she asks, and she doesn’t look accusatory or disdainful or anything of the sort — just thoughtful and a little curious, but try as he might, Glenn can't find an answer that doesn’t sound like complete bullshit even to his ears. "It's not like my parents were like your parents," he says eventually, and Morgan just looks so, _so_ sad, like she might cry, and Glenn feels awful for even thinking it.

"Oh, _magpie,_ " she murmurs as she pulls him in close again. Morgan drops a kiss on his left cheek, then his right, his lips, and finally, his wedding ring. She hums a tuneless melody until exhaustion also claims Glenn and he falls into a restless sleep.

\--

Days pass. Glenn comes home from a long day of teaching little sticky-fingered munchkins how to hold a guitar in their little sticky-fingered hands to the sound of his father’s drunken caterwauling, the sight of his father pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, who simply stands there, stock-still and silent.

Bill is still screaming obscenities, and Glenn doesn’t know who started it or how it started, but he doesn’t particularly care. Glenn stands between the two of them before things can escalate any further.

“Get the fuck out of here, Bill,” Glenn says, surprised at how calm he sounds.

Bill glowers. _“Excuse me?”_

“You heard me. You’re not welcome here. _Leave._ ”

Bill steps forward. Glenn stands his ground. “You’re throwing me out, but this cunty ass little slut bag can stay here?”

Glenn sees red, and before he can stop himself, he’s grabbing the collar of Bill’s shirt and ramming his forehead into Bill’s face. Bill recoils in pain, and Glenn uses the distraction of blood pouring out of his father’s nose to drag and manhandle Bill towards the door.

“Bye,” Glenn says, giving Bill one last hard shove, slamming the door shut so hard the doorknob rattles.

It’s silent again. The adrenaline of the moment fades into something that Glenn doesn’t want to call guilt, and he sinks down to the ground and leans against the door. Slowly, tentatively, Morgan makes her way towards Glenn and joins him, coaxes him to lean his head on her shoulder.

"I hate him.”

“I know, magpie.”

Glenn’s silent for a long moment, feels like he should fling open the door again and follow, but he doesn’t, just continues to press his face into Morgan’s shoulder. His father has already disappeared, exactly like in his memory, and Glenn doesn’t know for how long this time, hopes that it’s forever, but it still feels like the loss of something precious, and Glenn hates it.

“I hate him so fucking much, Morgan," Glenn says, and he hates, also, the way his voice sounds. Like if he says it enough times, he’ll believe it. “I hate him.”

“I know,” Morgan repeats. Like if she says it enough times, Glenn’s words will be true. “It’s okay, Glenn. It’s okay.”

“You’re okay.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> sad jazz hands?? anyway i’m on tumblr at whotaughtyougrammar.


End file.
